


An Everlasting Love

by suchahuckleberry



Category: Little Women (1994), Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22953415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchahuckleberry/pseuds/suchahuckleberry
Summary: Wandering aimlessly through the back streets of sun-drenched Nice, Laurie was hit by the realisation of what his soul had been burning for, desiring for so long without his knowledge: the littlest blonde March sister, who suddenly had him wrapped around her dainty little fingers.Or: what happens in Nice, stays in Nice... Unless of course it doesn't ;)
Relationships: Amy March & Elizabeth March, Amy March & Josephine March, Amy March & Margaret March, Amy March/Fred Vaughn, Theodore Laurence/Amy March
Comments: 46
Kudos: 213





	1. Chapter 1

A certain Mr Vaughn had departed from Paris for London only a few week prior, leaving his little blonde with a chaste kiss and promises of grandeur celebrations when he returned. She had smiled generously and with a small wave, wished him the best on his travels, savouring in the lightness the air filled with as she saw his carriage disappear down the cobbled streets. 

The wind had settled to a cool breeze. She felt guilt rise in her chest and wrapped her own hand around her arms protectively, now armed with the knowledge that whilst he was back home in London, her Fred would likely be courting his grandmother's diamond ring that he would bring back to her and ask for her hand in marriage, as man and wife forever. The thought made her stomach flip. Not with the satiation of happiness, more with an unfulfilling dread that had disturbed her sleep for the majority of her time in the city of love. She laughed with a sigh, the irony so apparent that only she, little miss Amy March, could make such a mess of things in a city so renowned for its amorous foundations.  
As she watched the carriage pull away, chugging gently down the winding road, she felt a warm hand wrap around her own that was still resting on her arm and a hot breath soothed the goosebumps that had arisen on her neck. She jumped just ever so slightly, spinning around in defence but laughed mercilessly as she realised it was none other than her Laurie, his dark eyes alight with affection for her ever-dramatic reaction.

"Oh Laurie! You gave me such a fright, don't do that!"  
She chastised him with a grin, playfully slapping his hand away.

"I'm sorry, my dear. You just looked so wistful I couldn't resist ruining your little moment." 

He teased back, a matching grin spreading across his chiseled face. A light blush arose as Amy's cheeks heated with the affectionate greeting he had given her, matched with the thumping guilt she tried so hard to swallow down. With a deep breath, Amy turned to him and smiled before pulling him by his arm into Aunt March's estate to tell him the news.

"Well, since darling Fred will be gone for quite some time, and Aunt March is insistent that when he returns, he will stay for good, perhaps even returning home to Concord with me to meet everyone,"

Laurie's face fell in such a miniscule way that the naked eye wouldn't have caught it. His eyes remained locked with her bright ones, still smiling and listening yet his mind wandered to thoughts of Fred Vaughn and his proper- Englishness simply charming the Marches and their cries of joy that Amy was such a smart and such a beautiful young woman to find such a man like Fred Vaughn. If only they would have seen him as Laurie had back in his bachelor days at university, he wouldn't be sure that Fred would have the same charm and poise he now appeared to.  
Nevertheless, Amy continued with glee and Laurie quickly snapped out of his foolish daydreaming, something he had always been told off about by his many tutors.

"Aunt March has agreed that since I may only be in Europe a while longer, I should see more than just Paris and has permitted us to move to Nice in the south of France for the late spring! And the best part is, she said she'd even be willing to let you accompany us! How wonderful is that, Laurie?"

Amy had reached out at some point during her ramblings to seize both his hands in her own and now gripped them giddily as she bounced with excitement. Laurie couldn't help his growing smile as despite her demonstrations of maturity, grace and decorum over the few months they had shared in Paris, he loved it most when she displayed those March qualities that reminded him so much of their shared childhood. She may have had the fine art of being a lady of society perfected, but her child-like glee was truly her most charming feature. 

"Laurie? Hello? Isn't that fantastic news?" She repeated, her hands still placed in his.

"Of course, Amy. I'd be delighted to accompany you and Aunt March and I'm sure the southern french sun will give us a much-needed break."

His smile became solemn as he remembered the recent letters from Marmee that suggested there had been no real improvements in the state of Beth's health, something that had played heavily on Amy's heart for days after the letters had arrived. He had consoled her through those tough decisions on whether to return home or stay in Paris, whilst Fred had pressured her to return to Concord immediately, Laurie had assured her that it wasn't a sin to stay and enjoy herself as there was nothing she could really help with back home. And she did indeed choose to stay. And as for Fred...

"Will Fred mind awfully?" He asked, cautiously withdrawing his intent eye contact as not to seem interrogative. Amy giggled lightly, a sound so comforting and melodic to his ears.

"Why, of course not. It was, in fact, Fred himself who suggested Aunt March and I find some sunshine while he is away on business."

"No, Amy, I mean does he mind that I am...". Her brows furrowed with confusion and he decided now was not the best time for that conversation. It would have to wait until later.

"Never mind. Now when do we leave?"  
She beamed, beginning to ramble off the list of things she had to pack and whether she had proper attire for the warmth of the south and how long the journey would be but how she expected it to be pleasant whilst Aunt March insisted it would be horrible, and he watched her intently, clinging on to the end of her every word.

She was right, as per usual. The journey had been long but pleasant, the sea breeze diminishing any sickness that may have been caused by the bumpy French country roads. Amy had let out a girl-like squeal when she spotted the rolling blue waves of Nice, not without earning an eye-roll from Aunt March, however. Laurie had also been excited to see the sea, though hid his giddiness as not to annoy the already soured Aunt March who had always took such a dislike to the laid-back, easy goingness of the South of France. Laurie suspected she would have preferred a more uptight and stiff-lipped holiday, perhaps to London where Fred was from. 

Amy took a long inhale to breathe in the wonderful fresh, crisp air that was lightly salted by the sea. Laurie could concurr that it was a relief to the lungs which had gotten so used to the pollution of Paris that he had forgotten what good fresh air could do for a person.  
She smiled at him contentedly, the blue sky bringing out the colour in her eyes and she stared back out the window of their carriage, before nuzzling her tired eyes into his shoulder.  
Tentatively, and whilst Aunt March was still dozing, he reached a hand to her neck, grazing it lightly with his fingertips. He threaded and unthreaded his fingers through her soft blonde hairs at the nape of her neck, where they had escaped the tight wound of her braided bun. The action, though innocent and light, caused an eruption of goosebumps to rise on her arms and she sighed lightly, trying to ignore the thumping of her heart in her chest. Laurie had always admired these little wisps from a distant, as they were far blonder and fine than any of the rest of her hair. Amy, on the other hand, had always spent hours wishing they would tuck neatly away as a lady's would, just like Meg's do. Meg was never seen with a hair out of place and Amy reminisced how she had always tried to pull on Meg's hair when they were little, as if she couldn't be perfect herself than neither could Meg. She smiled at her foolishness as a child, rather embarrassed by her little jealous ways and wondering if Laurie still remember her like that. She took the moment to steal a glance up at him, unprepared to see his eyes already boring into her and taken aback by the warmth radiating from his stare. Her breath hitched slightly, caught in the intensity of their locked eyes. Laurie's fingers slowed where they had been stroking her fine hairs and he instead took to tracing the exposed part of her shoulder with the tips of his fingers, like painting small lines between the freckles adorning her creamy skin. 

A rousing snore from Aunt March pulled them apart quickly as the old miss woke herself up with the ferocity of her snores, causing Amy to break the moment with a fit of giggles and Laurie pulling his touch away, simultaneously amused and intimidated by Aunt March's haunting glare.  
The carriage pulled into the hotel they were to stay at on the Promenade Des Anglais, a perfect view of the beach reminding Laurie of their childhood trips to the beach and galavanting with the Marches in the sand. The same thought crossed Amy's mind as the bell boy took their luggage and they entered the large drawing room space that parted their two rooms. Laurie had spent hours chasing Jo in the sand, proving a difficult feat, after Jo had decided to steal his written music and threatened to throw them in the ocean if he didn't come and play with the ball she had brought along. Amy had thrown her head back, giggling furiously watching Laurie huffing and puffing and squinting in the sunlight. She idly sketched him from a distance in that fine white shirt which he had unbuttoned at the top and rolled the sleeves up for comfort, exposing the tanned, olive skin and turquoise veins painting his wrists. When she had finished and plucked up enough courage, she marched over to where Laurie was swigging water, clutching her sketch under her arm.

"Hey, little miss Amy."  
He had greeted her warmly, pointing at the paper she was gripping.  
"What have you got there?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to another and opened her mouth to explain her sketch but just as she did, there was an interruptive call from her older sister.

"Laurie! I'm not finished with this game yet! I still have to beat you!"  
Jo had called, wildly beckoning Laurie to come back to where Jo stood with her skirts lifted and ball passing between her feet.  
Laurie laughed lightly, tapping Amy's arm and making a promise.

"You can show me later. I think I may end up in the ocean with the fishies if I don't tend to your sister right now!"  
And with that he was sprinting back to Jo, Amy letting the opportunity to show her work to her muse slip right through her dainty little fingers.

Now the next morning, those dainty little fingers were stirring a cup of tea, a habit she had become accustomed to since spending more time with Fred Vaughn. It was one of few Britishisms she had gotten on board with, finding the warmth soothing to her throat. Her and Laurie were seated on the balcony just outside the drawing room of their hotel, Laurie flicking mindlessly through the local newspaper and trying to piece together the French he had learned to make sense of the ongoings of the southern town. Despite little touch or even conversation, the moment felt intimate. The two were content in each other's presence, happy to do their own activities to the soundtrack of the waves gently crashing on the pebbled beach. He could tell it was going to be a hot, dry day and proposed wandering into town earlier rather than later, as to avoid the late spring sun causing any unwanted burns to her fair complexion. She agreed heartily and went to change into a more suitable dress, Laurie's eyes trailing after her as she took to the privacy of her room. 

Amy emerged about an hour later just when Laurie was starting to bounce his knee with impatience but as she sauntered onto the balcony and into the sun, Laurie did a double-take, nearly choking on his espresso he had been sipping. The dress was one she had been saving for a special occasion, when the weather got warmer. His eyes followed the black flowers printed so delicately on the white chiffon material, a lower cut then was usual for Amy as she was of course one of Marmee's girls, topped so perfectly with a delicate hat and ribbons flowing behind her braided signature style like a cherry on the most perfect little ice cream sundae. She was the vision of an angel sent from heaven above.

"Shall we be off, Laurie?"  
She gleamed, unaware of his wanting stare. He nodded, unable to quite formulate words like a man stirred from sleep despite the clock now striking closer to later afternoon.  
"Yes." he fumbled ungraciously.  
"Yes of course."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An almost kiss, a quarrel and a very drunk man... What could go wrong?

The hot spring sun had just begun to cool after the scorching midday heat and the crowds had dissipated, Laurie assumed to lie down or take tea in their rooms. This left the Promenade Des Anglais fairly quiet for once, an unusual yet much welcomed pleasure.   
Laurie and Amy strolled carelessly at their own pace down the promenade, Amy relishing in the sun beaming down on her skin and the calming rocking noises of the ocean. He playfully nudged her to the side and she returned with a small push, sending them into fits of giggles, like naughty school children. They arrived at a small spot near the edge of the beach and sat down to rest, Amy closing her white lace parasol.  
She took out the sketchbook she had carried with her.

"Laurie, Laurie! Stay right there. The light is hitting you beautifully!"   
She said, adjusting herself to get the light just right and taking the charcoal to her sketchpad to mark the beginnings of the portrait. He willingly followed her instructions, winking at her cheekily.

"Ah so you think I'm beautiful?" 

"That's not what I said, Laurie." She replied with a fond eye roll.

"It's what you implied, my little Raphaella."   
He smirked, reaching out to tap the tip of her nose affectionately. That familiar pink blushed her cheeks as a comfortable silence fell over them, the sound of Amy's scribbling soothing him.

She periodically glanced at him and each time she did, Laurie was already staring at her, seemingly studying her as an artist studies their muse. She rolled a pencil between her lips, an unladylike action but satisfying nonetheless. The pencil parted her pink lips slightly and she glanced up at him through heady eyelids, green eyes peeping from fluttering lashes.   
His heart began to thump with attentiveness as he studied her hard at work. Her own upper body rose and fell with breath, his eyes wandering across the feminine curve of her chest, more exposed than usual. 

He sinfully imagined her pressed flush against him, their chests heaving as one and his lips bruising against hers, moving down to worship the tender skin across her clavicle with sweet kisses and her crying his name as she held onto him, dainty fingers entangled in his curls. He studied the base of her neck where he so loved to twist the fine hairs that escaped there, and the freckles scattered across her lithe shoulders. Her dress was a modern design, the back more sheer than any of her others, and exposing the small of her back where her waist pinched in, two dimples decorating her lower back, supple hips that he so longed to touch, rub, feel. He wanted to unwind her hair and let it slip down her shoulders and neck, golden gentle curls that he would slide his fingers through as they expressed their love to one another, not through words but through sweet, hungry kisses. It was this moment he saw his little Raphaella had truly become a woman, one with grace and a feminine touch that he desired so deeply. Amy was no longer a child, and the revelation left Laurie unsteady, nervous around her like he'd never been before.   
Of course he'd known she would grow up in the few years she was in Europe, as was only natural, but it seemed he was not prepared for the pretty girl to become a beautiful lady, illustrious yet innocent with the charms and graces only a well-to-do woman could posess, and still with the golden heart of a March.

It was true, he'd always thought he'd marry Jo before that year. It made sense: they could spend hours and hours together without ever tiring of each others company. Their lives together would be one big adventure. It would be like their childhood all over again. They loved each other. Why shouldn't they marry? But Jo was right. They were too hot-headed, they'd argue all day and when the time came to ask she ultimately said no. He ran away. He escaped. He hid from the shame. All because he thought he loved her as a man should love his wife. However, when the wounds began to heal and the haze lifted he could see that wasn't at all how he loved her. He loved her so deeply and always would, but their bond was familial, like inseperable siblings, two platonic peas in a pod.

But here, staring at Amy, sweet Amy who had always nourished him with affections and compliments and showered him with admiration, he could see what his heart desired right was now right in front of his very eyes. She was no longer just a March sister, but her own entity, separate as a woman yet still part of that community he loved so dearly. It hit Laurie like a train on a track that he simply could not let her take Fred Vaughn as her husband. In fact, he would make it his own personal mission to marry Amy March, no matter the cost.

The sky was now a hazy pink as Amy finished her sketch and proudly turned it around to Laurie. She laughed a little, shy at her work, unaware to Laurie's euphoric awakening. It seemed the lightness they had shared earlier was gone, as Laurie eyes fell heavy on her, beaming with want. She felt heat building in her, the orange glow of the early evening making Laurie look more handsome than she'd ever seen him. He brushed his hand against her cheek, smoothing a stray curl behind her ear warily, fully aware of their close proximity yet finding it difficult to pull away, her sweet scent maginitising him closer. He let his hand rest there momentarily, caressing her plumped cheeks and letting his eyes flutter shut as she drew closer, heart equally racing...

That was until a drunk man stumbled behind them shouting utter nonsense.  
"MARIA! Mon cheri! How I miss you!" The man feigned dramatics, shouting hysterically before skipping away like a small child. Poor Amy had jumped like she had seen the Holy Ghost herself and they turned to each other in fits of laughter, Laurie putting a hand to his chest at the fright the drunkard had given them whilst they were lost in their own little bubble.  
"Well, Miss March,"   
He said, just about recovered from the antics and with a sigh, slapped his hands against his thighs in a manner to show he was ready to go.

"it's high time we get back to the hotel. I expect Aunt March may not be too pleased to hear her little darling has been mixing with the commonest of common folk."

He teased, offering her a hand as she struggled to get up from their seated position on the floor, still weak-kneed from the fits of laughter. They fell into comfortable conversation as they made the short journey back to the hotel, yet neither bothered to mention when the warmth of Laurie's hand slipped onto the small of Amy's back, gently massaging the little dimples he'd admired earlier. That was a discussion for another time.

Amy tossed and turned in bed that night, trying to comprehend the occurrences of the day. She had always loved Laurie but this was different, like there was some kind of electricity that flowed between them when they touched. Her heart ached so terribly when she thought of Jo, wondering if wishing Laurie would make the short journey through the drawing room separating them and come to join her in her bed was some kind of malicious sin that would anger her sister. Was the devil tempting her? If he was, Amy couldn't deny the pulling affect was certainly working. Jo had turned Laurie down after all, but that was a whole issue of its own.   
Was she simply a second best to Laurie? Someone he could use to feel close the March's again, a consolation prize even? She couldn't put her heart through that, not when she had spent the past two years in Europe building walls and making a name as a respected woman: she'd be a fool to risk her reputation, her potential marriage, her future, her everything just to be someone's second best. Oh, and sweet Fred. She knew he'd had his own wild times back in university but he was so tender and mild now, a perfectly doting husband and father he would make. If only she could make her heart race for him, how simple things would be, yet she knew fate was never that kind to girls like the March's, it was twisted and at times even cruel. 

If only she were back home she'd have the comforting arms of Beth to hold her and Marmee's wise words and Meg's loving patience and Jo's nimble wit to cheer her up. But she knew she had to be brave, if she were to fully achieve what she came here to do, which was provide a future for the March's by marrying rich. She would have to pluck up the courage and think with her head, not her heart. She knew that those who faltered and fell always paid the price, and if that meant leaving Laurie behind, than so it must be.

Amy had succeeded in avoiding the person in question for the majority of the next day, instead opting to take the day to preen and take care of herself after the emotional turmoil of yesterday. She took to the tub for longer than usual, lathering various soaps as to look her best for Tobias Darlington-Whit's ball tonight. The ball was infamous for being filled with the highest young people of every field - especially the arts - and featured upcoming high-society pearls that she so wanted to befriend. Plus, the party itself was hosted by one of Fred's best friends, and it was only polite for her to show her face at such an occasion   
If she were honest, she had also heard the champagne was glorious and very plentiful, decidedly thinking she could do with a strong glass of bubbles after the happenings of the past few days.

The evening rolled around after she had taken dinner in her room (unheard of for Amy, who had always enjoyed the company of others at meal times) in an attempt to avoid any possible contact with the man she so longed for. She tried to distract herself by taking her time to get ready for the ball, fussing and fleeting about the room in her dress to see if it moved sufficiently, like the ladies she had seen dancing previously. When her hair was pinned perfectly, all the fine hairs at her neck folded neatly into her braid, she rose to her vanity and powdered her face lightly, hoping to cover where the sun had caught the end of her nose and peaks of her cheekbones.   
Satisfied, she looked once more in the mirror, smoothing down her frock and took a deep breath, giving herself a reassuring smile as a soldier does before battle. She scoffed to herself, aware that her analogy to a soldier was hyperbolic and showed her dramatic tendencies, but truthfully it was how she felt having to pluck up the courage to face the world head on. None of dear Marmee's lessons growing up had ever taught her how to navigate a situation like this, nevertheless she would have to persevere. Taking one last look in the mirror, she turned around and headed through the drawing room hurriedly, like a spy in the night, hoping to avoid him at all costs and reach Aunt March's room before it was too late. 

"Amy!"   
Of course he happened to enter the drawing room at that exact moment, how cruel of fate, she thought, rolling her eyes before squinting narrowly at the owner of the booming voice.

"Where have you been all day? Cooped up in that little room of yours?"   
He smirked, completely unaware of the tycoon of thoughts Amy had been through the previous night. She did not match his smile.

"That was a joke, if you didn't catch it. Where have you really been? I missed you my little Raphaella."   
He approached her, taking her hand gently but she immediately pulled away like he had given her a shock of electricity, causing him to furrow his eyebrows at her cold demeanor. She shuddered terribly, wincing and taking a breath, thinking of her sisters back home who were relying upon her to provide for them.

"Amy, my darling, there's no need to be like tha-"  
He was cut and shrugged off his touch once again, Amy deciding now was her time to strike.

"Laurie, that is improper behaviour and you know it. You should not speak to a lady that way, much less one who is soon to be engaged for marriage. Whether you believe it is wrong or it is right that I marry Fred is irrelevant, and whether I marry him for reasons of love or for money is not your decision. I came here for one reason, to achieve one thing and one thing only. If I do not achieve that, then I risk my entire family's future. I place my sisters in dire circumstances and I bring disgrace to a name once so well-regarded. So, kindly understand that I wish to attend Tobias Darlington-Whit's ball tonight in peace, without your bothering, that I may enjoy my last few weeks of freedom without your interference where it is unnecessary and unwanted."

He was completely taken aback by her snapping tone and sharp words, flabbergasted at the sudden change of demeanor from the one he had experienced yesterday and certainly not expecting a lecture of that kind. He huffed like a child would to a headmaster accusing them of something they knew they were guilty of but would fiercely deny. Confusion swept his brow and his heart raced furiously in his chest, desperate to know what had changed or what he had done to deserve such a bollocking. 

"Amy,"  
He started, breathlessly, stroking her cheek to attempt her meeting his eyes.

"Goodnight, Mister Laurence."   
She stormed, trying to steel her voice yet sounding unconvincing, even to her own ears.

And with a flurry of skirts, she disappeared from the drawing room, into the hallway; desperately choking back small sobs as not to ruin her freshly powdered face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!! We're back babyyyy. Would just like to say a massive thank you for the lovely comments and kudos on the last chapter! Unexpected but so appreciated. Hope you're all well, here's another cheeky chapter for you - ooo the tensions rising....  
> All the love x


	3. Chapter 3

Dumbfounded, Laurie stood in the centre of the drawing room that divided their rooms, like he had been slapped with no forewarning. He wondered what he could have possibly done to have such anger aimed at him. How had he managed to make a mess of things 20 feet away in another room?

Laurie was not an imbecile, he understood that things between them were moving quickly, neither sure where to, but that they were moving. He also understood that what he wanted would complicate their lives immensely. Should he take her hand in marriage, she would first have to reject Fred and all his wealth, then face her family's reaction which he was just of unsure and wary of as she was. However, Amy was strong and steadfast, and if she had those same feelings he had for her, (which he highly suspected she did if the lingering touches and stolen glances were anything to go by) than she would handle those issues with grace and ease, how she handled all things in life. Sure, things would be more simple in another life, but Amy had always fought for what she wanted and those issues were redeemable with Laurie's own fortune and the March's omnibenevolent, unconditional support. Subsequently, the issue must not lie in those hurdles but something else that was bothering his little love. He pondered with the idea of her older sister Jo, and how Amy had always admired her, dying to copy Jo's funny ways. 

He smiled, reminiscing to the time Amy had decided that if Jo could write, she could too. She had spent all day churning out stories and playing with words and produced it proudly to Jo, Laurie and the rest of the March's around supper. Amy was by no means incapable or unintelligent, but there was no denying the story was completely incoherent, and was scattered with confused spellings and illegible handwriting.  
Jo, never one to sugar coat, had poked fun at Amy's little story, using her nimble wit to amuse the March family with sarcasm about how Amy would be the next Shakespeare. Being only 11, and petty at the best of times, Amy's bottom lip had begun to quiver with anger until she burst into a full tantrum. The table erupted with Meg's hushings and Jo's sarcasm and Marmee, of course, used it as an opportunity to teach the girls that they won't be perfect at everything first time but that they should never give up.  
This was a lesson that Amy, of course, fiercely defied and vowed never to pick up a pen ever again, even refusing to write at school for the next week. He chuckled, as he himself had tried to savour the harmonious chaos, and Amy's stubborn upturned nose, blotchy red cheeks and pink pout made him chuckle, as though she was fierce tempered at times, he could never picture her throwing fits like she had done when they were growing up. No, now she was truly a lady, one that couldn't be touched by the familial jealousy of youth. Or could she? Laurie toyed with the idea in his mind for a few minutes. Was that what had bothered her? Was it his past affections for old Jo? Surely Amy could not be upset by the prospect that he still loved Jo, for it was simply not true. He had mistaken what he thought was true love for platonic love, the first time he had felt something strong for a woman before, but it was exactly that: mistaken. He couldn't see how anyone could think he still loved Jo as a man should love his wife, for anybody with healthy sight would know his eyes were only for Amy, if the constant boring of his eyes into the side of her head was anything to go by. He played the idea over once again in his head. Was Amy really troubled by his love for Jo?

Amy sighed against the door she had just slammed behind her, using her whole body to expel all the breath in her lungs where she had been holding it ransom during that torrid conversation. In, and out. In, and out. She repeated until the hall stopped spinning, finding her balance and sniffling pathetically as a wimpy dog would. All dressed up in her evening wear, she truly looked like the damsel in distress that she had spent so many years reading and dreaming of being, except she had just told her knight-in-shining-armour to take his bother elsewhere. How on earth had it all come to this so quickly, she wandered, taking another shaky breath. Once she could feel her feet firmly on the ground she began to pace down the hall and towards her Aunt March's room determinedly. If there was anything that could lift her spirits now, it was a ball full of glittering up-comers and a strong glass of champagne. She wanted her feet to no longer feel firmly on the ground but to float and levitate, no longer grounded by the pressures she felt in her day to day life. With that in mind (and being the only thing keeping the tears from spilling from her eyes), she approached Aunt March's door.

"Come in, dear."  
Croaked the old woman from her large four-poster bed.

"Aunt March, are you alright? You look positively feverish!"  
Amy interrogated, concerned by Aunt March's unusually casual attire, tucked up in bed like a small child. She studied her pale, worn face. The illness was clearly not serious but it was enough to put a woman of her age into bed for a few days to take rest.

"I told you all that travelling would do us no good. It's these French, they know nothing of modern hygiene standards."  
Aunt March said, even in her weak state managing a disapproving eye roll. Amy chuckled softly.

"I apologise for not coming to see you earlier Aunt March, I was just so caught up in getting ready fo-"  
She cut herself off, having only just remembered why she had gone to collect Aunt March who was to accompany and watch over Amy that evening, seeking out any more potential suitors in case, as Aunt March had frankly put it, Fred Vaughn lost his way before he arrived back in France. She sat frustratedly on the end of the bed, already knowing the answer to the question she hadn't even formulated yet.

"Aunt March,"  
She began, warily  
"I had come here to collect you for Tobias Darlington-Whit's ball, but since you are in such a sorry state, I can't possibly bother you with that spiel so I guess I must attend by myself, due to the fact that it would be rude and shallow of me not to attend and I am of age an-"  
Her ramblings were once again cut off by a firmly raised eyebrow and slating stare.

"Amy. I am an old woman but do not mistake me for a fool. If I am unable to accompany you, then someone else must. You should know that it would be improper for me to send you alone. I thought we had that clarified."  
Aunt March's piercing yet strangely comforting glance meeting Amy's.  
"Therefore, I propose you go with that Laurence boy. He's not who I would have chosen first but beggars cannot be choosers, or whatever the poets say."  
She said firmly, unaware of Amy's cursing and blinding in her mind. Out of all the people on earth Amy could attend a ball with, Aunt March had to propose the very one she had just pushed away! Her heart ached with anxiety, considering just going to her bedroom for the night. No! She mustn't! She just had to attend, this was her one and only chance to prove that she was meant to be here and display everything she had learned to the people that mattered most, those of wealth and future who could take her far in life with the right connections. She would not let Aunt March's illness stop her future, no matter how selfish it sounded out loud, and she certainly wouldn't let Laurie stop her either.

"But Aunt March!"  
Amy protested. It was a weak, childish response even for Amy, but the words wouldn't formulate the way she wanted to.  
"You go with the Laurence boy or you do not go at all. I will not be shown up at a ball I am not even in attendance of."  
Aunt March said with a knowing pout, looking up to where a knock had sounded at the door.

"Come in,"  
Aunt March croaked. The raven-haired man stepped cautiously into the room, staring at his dragging feet before Aunt March addressed him directly, ordering him to lead Amy out of the room and to the ball. Laurie himself was not too enthusiastic for he knew the politics of these balls was far less interesting then the glittering front put on, but he was willing to do anything to make Amy smile after her pursed lips and sorrowful eyes that stormy afternoon. Aunt March continued her ramblings.

"Ah, Theodore Laurence. I never thought I'd see the day when your presence brought me joy. Now, now Amy no more protesting, you know how I feel about protests, they are for the weak and feeble minded who care not for proper communications. Leave me in peace and bid me good evening, that's it, off you go."  
She shoo'ed them out, her words hurrying them through the door despite Amy's brooding face like thunder and shouts of protest as Laurie led her out of the room by her wrist, the door closing behind them with a thud as Aunt March's grumblings faded.

"Let go, Laurie."  
She wiggled her wrist that had his fingers encircled around it, hoping to twist her hand out of his grip and sneak off by herself.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."  
He strengthened his grip, never enough to hurt her but just enough that she was unable to storm off quickly as she so desperately wanted to.

"That's none of your business."  
She snapped, with a harsh, hushed tone attempting not to make a scene as some other guests sauntered past.

"Well then I guess we won't be attending Whit's little party will we?"  
He cut back, earning a glare from Amy. He should've been upset to have such a harsh look pointed at him, but he was just relieved that she finally looked him straight in the eye after all of her avoidances (and he couldn't deny that seeing her with so much vivacity and  
being outright demanding and bossy was making him rather hot under the collar). For once, Laurie had the upper hand and they both knew it, for if she refused to go with Laurie than she refused to go to the ball at all, and that simply wasn't an option for Amy who had spent all day preparing herself to meet Paris' pearls that evening. 

"Fine."  
She huffed in an annoyed matter, knowing he was not going to let this go, and dejectedly accepting his outstretched arm.  
"But don't even think about trying any tricks those evening, Laurie. I am serious, this is my only chance to impress Fred's friends and I could do without your interference."

"Your wish is my command."  
He smirked, just happy to see her giving in to his touch again. He knew he would have to ask about her sudden cold shoulder at some point but now was not the time, for he had to get Cinderella to her ball before the clock struck midnight.

The carriage ride was quiet, the air still thick with the tension lingering from Amy's lecture earlier that evening. Both knew they needed to address it but neither wanted to, as not to cross the line they had been dancing on for a while now. Amy remained upright, contrasting her dozy snuggles she had given Laurie on that first carriage ride to Nice. Despite Amy's efforts to keep her guarded distance, the carriage was cramped, causing the side of her thighs to press snug against Laurie's. He was pleasantly smitten at her wriggling and rearranging of skirts, watching her in amusement try not to get too close to him. It was tinged in bitter sweetness however, as he feared he might have lost the closeness they had grown over their shared months in Paris, something he had been missing in his life since he moved to Europe after Jo's refusal. Oh how naive he had been, thinking that glorified travels and sun-drenched adventures would save him of the pains of loving a March girl, only to fall deeper in love with another. This time, however, he had hope - and possibly too much self-confidence - to allow Amy to slip through his fingers. No, he was going to fight for this love.

The rain that had lashed against their carriage had quietened to a soft patter as they pulled in to the grand mansion owned by the Darlington-Whit's, even the road outside alight with roaring candles and beautiful, elegant couples strolling in to the warmth of the house. Laurie offered his hand to Amy as she stepped out of the carriage, admiring the grace she possessed as she landed like a fallen feather on a soft Spring's day.  
The entrance of the house was now tranquil, the majority of people having moved in to the ball room approximately 15 minutes ago. Amy' nerves were clearly playing on her mind, as she took a shaky breath before walking through the doors and going to approach the grand staircase leading to the ball room. Despite their lack of communication, the action was a vulnerability she shared with Laurie, letting him know the weight this event held for her and showing her unfamiliarity with these high profile breeding-grounds, despite having been to many across her time in Europe, though usually accompanied by Aunt March. 

"Will you let me have a dance with a beautiful lady later perhaps?"  
Laurie broke the silent severity of the moment with a cheeky twinkle. She scoffed but couldn't help but catch his gleam too.

"I'd never stop you from dancing with a woman who takes your interest." She replied, knowing she'd twisted his offer. Smart aleck. 

"I meant with you, my darling." 

His voice became smooth and low, leaning in to her ear so no passer-byers could hear, even if the hall was empty. She stopped in her tracks, her short height meaning she was suddenly looking straight up at him as he posed against the marble banister with a smirk.

"Laurie."  
She said with rising inflection. 

"Do not make me regret my decision. Be on your best behaviour or I'll leave you to make a fool of yourself."

"Oh, anything for you, Saint Amy, you can make a fool of me anyday."

He knew it was brave considering the lecture he had received earlier, but he got such a thrill from watching the tips of her ears burn red and the lady try to compose herself. He imagined her underneath him, unraveling and groaning his name as she let go of the pretences and the niceties of high society for the raw passion she would share with him. 

"You disgust me, Laurence. A lady would never respond to such vulgarities."  
She slyly slid in his full name, knowing what buttons to press to wind him up just as he did she.

"Oh, but the lady just did." 

He replied with a wink, seizing her hand and dragging her in to the ball room before she could protest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter! Sorry it took longer than expected, school is rather busy at the moment but I'm hoping to plough through with some more chapters soon! As always, let me know what you think - any feedback is greatly appreciated.  
> All the love x


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Cinderella to go to her ball!

Enchanting music flowed through the halls of the Darlington-Whit's residence, whilst the main ballroom looked like a renaissance painting come to life. There were ladies dressed in fine silks and gentlemen leisurely holding their champagne as they flirted unashamedly. Even in the highest écoles of Paris, the men and women who gathered on these summer nights wanted the same as the street paupers: to find a perfect suitor and get down to business.  
Amy, being the lady she was, did not want to appear as if she were ever on the hunt for a gentlemen to court, for it was too animalistic of a ritual for her liking. Instead, she tended to dance freely but suitably as she had been taught by her father, and chatted politely and sipped champagne and carried herself with all the airs and graces, to wait for the gentlemen to come to her rather than choose her prey as some other ladies did. In the end, her route worked best, for she had managed to secure one of the finest young gentleman of the social circles back in Paris, Mr Fred Vaughn.

She paused for a split second, her wrist still encapsulated in Laurie's warm hands, her mind wandering to Fred. She could picture Fred's hurt blue eyes staring at her hand conjoined with Laurie's, but she felt that slip away as she lost herself in the warmth of Laurie's hazel eyes, completely losing her train of thought. She wanted to pull away, knowing their state could be deemed improper should someone report it to, say, Aunt March, however she couldn't bring herself to actually do it, instead leading him further into the party and swallowing down the guilt that had arisen in her throat. Tonight was for forgetting, not regretting.

They were split after only a few short minutes at the party, mainly due to Laurie spotting some old friends and Amy enthusiastically joining in the dances taking place in the centre of the room. Laurie hadn't even realised his friends had disappeared from around him as he was left with one tall brunette, clad in a red and rather risqué dress, with heady emerald eyes staring intently at him, causing him to rearrange his tie to avoid the intent gaze aimed his way.

"So, Mister Theodore Laurence,"  
She began, her tone dusky and low.

"It's just Laurie, thank you."

"Oh. I do apologise, Lauri-"

He didn't mean for the remark to come out so sharp, for he wasn't trying to offend the lady or even turn down her apparent advances. She was not unattractive or abhorrent, in fact Laurie knew just a few months prior he would probably already be tangled between linen sheets with the young lady - whom he did not even know the name of yet.   
However, he now found himself uninspired by her desire. Despite his laziness, he had come to want things which had to be worked for, perhaps due to Amy's influence and, though it wasn't in his nature, he was willing to work for a relationship that stretched him, matured him, bettered him as a man. When he fantasised of his next tumble in bed, it was not a quick rendezvous with a leggy brunette he was dreaming of, but the laboured breaths of a pretty blonde finally unleashing a side she saved only for him in moon-lit faded summer nights. It was Amy he was dreaming of.

Good god, he had to get a hold of himself. He couldn't spend all evening fantasising over a girl who was soon to be engaged if he wasn't willing to take some serious risks in order to fulfill that fantasy. 

"And well Mr Laurence, I do hope you'll be joining me and m-"  
The brunette whom had been rambling unintelligibly for the whole time he had been daydreaming was cut off by his sudden change of heart.

"It's Laurie. Just Laurie. I do apologise, but you'll have to excuse me."  
He said, decidedly. He brushed past the discombobulated girl who watched dumbfoundedly as Laurie swandered quickly across the room and immediately seemed to join the on-going dance as if he had always been there, seamlessly spinning a petite blonde into his arms.

"Oh! Laurie!"  
Amy giggled, twirling in his arms as the other couples dancing around them to the lively jig the orchestra was playing, keeping spirits high. There wasn't much chance for conversation as the partners swapped places, as part of the tightly choreographed traditional dance, but Laurie simply refused to let his little March go and kept her right where she was, continuing to dance without swapping partners.

"I saw you with Lady Clementine, you know."  
Amy said with a knowing smirk and light-hearted tone, though she didn't cover her underlying jealousy as well as she usually did, mainly due to her heavier consumption of alcohol that evening.

"I'd never wish to tarnish another lady's name,"  
She continued before pausing, blissfully unaware of what even her next sentence was going to be but a wonderfully cunning smirk swiped her face.

"Amy, my darling, you and I both know you would happily tarnish even your own sisters' names if it were to get you to where you wanted."

He teasingly cut in, as she held her hand to her chest in mock hurt, playfully looking scandalised as they conversed between the movements of the dance. He saw nothing wrong with her ambitious streak, where others had usually taken issue when Amy protested in the face of (what she deemed to be) injustice, landing her in trouble more than just a few times. Laurie chuckled, remembering the day she had appeared at his window with a hand split from punishment for cheekiness in school, and was delighted to see Amy had, throughout that evening, lost some of her lady-like pretences and seemed to have reverted so deliciously back to her naughty younger ways.

"Well, I think if you were to have any plans to bed the lady you should know that Fred's brother's best friend's sister, Lady Cunningham rumoured that your friend, Miss Clementine, over there would go to bed with the man who delivers the milk should he ask, for she can't resist a rendezvous with any man who offers one!" 

Laurie chuckled again, Amy's face souring as she realised her exaggerated (and perhaps, in places, falsified) gossip about Miss Clementine had not had the desired effect on Laurie she had wished.

"Laurie, why are you laughing? Do you find something funny?"  
She interrogated, missing a step as they continued to dance despite Amy's drunken mood swings, which Laurie found rather amusing.

"Oh, on the contrary, my sweet. It's just your pettiness rings so contrarily from your usual highly strung behaviours that I find it quite endearing."

He spoke smoothly, a voice like butter, using complicated words that in her tipsy state sought only to confuse her further, adding to the entertainment factor. She furrowed her brows comically at him, trying to focus his eyes on her as they continued to spin around the room in time to the music. The orchestra reached a crescendo with the strings creating a jolly build up whilst Laurie continued to twirl and lift Amy so elegantly, as if she weighed nothing more than a feather; rosy cheeks, shared grins and all. The music climaxed as the hall filled with cheers to the finishing group dance, Amy pressed flush against Laurie with a giddy smile and his arms around his waist in their final dance position.

The music then faded into a smoother, rousing piano piece. Many of the couples that had surrounded them before now left the centre of the floor, instead panting heavily with smiles and reaching for a glass of well-earned champagne.  
Amy and Laurie, on the other hand, stayed frozen in that position in the centre of the floor whilst the rest of the hall filled with other dancers. They became acutely aware that ever other couple on the floor were no longer just acquaintances, but suitors who wanted to dance the Viennese Waltz with their loves. Amy seemed stone cold sober for a second, looking for a way to exit the centre and sit on the sidelines to fan her flushed face, but she found no such luck since the ballroom was now so busy. She sighed heavily, acutely aware of their close proximity and touching hands, having no choice other than to move with the music. She had such natural grace, but her inexperience with such an amorous dance showed in her strong stance and sub-concious attempts to lead the two of them across the dance floor. 

Laurie kept his right hand on the small of her back, keeping her tucked gently under his chin and cosying her chest against his as his left hand took hers in front, combatting each other for dominance in the dance. Laurie, being the male in the dance and certainly the more experienced waltz-er, leaned down to her ear and whispered softly, as not to embarrass her around her peers.

"Let me take the lead."

His commanding yet soft voice sent a thrill through her whole body, causing her muscles to momentarily contract before loosening to complete putty in his hands. She melted against him as he pulled her even closer, diminishing any space between them and causing Amy, in her loose state, to gently groan, the noise heavenly and melodic to his ears. They pulled back to look at each other, both frozen in a trance as if a spell had been cast upon them for a split second that the sweet sound had slipped involuntarily from her, the noise music to Laurie's ears. 

In fact, it was so melodic that Laurie became completely distracted from actual music in his ears coming from the orchestra and mistimed a step, causing him to clumsily stamp onto Amy's delicate foot. She yelped before falling into a fit of giggles, the alcohol still in full effect on her due to her irregular and small usual consumption, and just like that the enchantment was broken, as if the clock had struck 12 on Cinderella's ball.  
Luckily, they had twirled their way to the side of the hall during the dance and had managed to avoid any major catastrophes, bar Amy's sore little toe. 

"My goodness, Amy. I am so sorry, let me fetch some water for you."  
He said apologetically, laughing a little helplessly along with the giddy girl.

"Oh Laurie don't be so silly. I just need a moment to settle myself. I'm feeling rather close to drunk, you know!"

Exclaimed Amy, steadying herself as she pulled away from his hand and took the moment to retreat to the balcony, savouring in the crisp night air on her flushed cheeks, rouged from a mix of the champagne and Laurie's sudden proximity. She tried to rationalise the events in her head, but her mind was still whirring and fuzzing so instead she settled for contentedly staring at the stars in the night sky. 

It wasn't long before Laurie returned with a small glass of water and took to her side at the balcony, the little lights in the sky reminding him of the sweet freckles that painted Amy's lithe shoulders and neck, so beckoning and bold.

"Mmmh, Laurie."   
She sighed, allowing the air to settle in her lungs and resting her head against his shoulder. There was a part of her that knew all this was wrong, improper and would certainly send mixed signals after her lecture that afternoon, but as he gently rested the weight of his chin atop her head and slipped his fingers soothingly through her loose hair escaping her up-do, a much stronger part of her simply did not care anymore, for in this moment she wanted to relish in the fact that he was her's, if only for tonight.

Laurie shared these same doubts, his mind telling him to let go but his heart demanding her held her tighter. He inhaled the night air, breathing in her strawberry scent and filling his lungs with air before finally filling his mind with enough clarity to unravel his arms and let her out of his grip.

"Come on then, Mon petite cherié,"  
He said lightly, spinning her around to face.

"We had best return you home before you cause another ruckus here, or worse risk waking Aunt March up back home."  
He joked, allowing their hands to slip into one another as he led her down the stairs and out of the grand entrance, neither mentioning their interlaced fingers caressing each other.

And when the morning came, and the littlest March sobered up once more, not another word was whispered of the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness I'm ever so sorry I haven't updated this in ages!! I've been so busy between work and school since they've only just closed the schools today due to the Corona situation. I truly hope everyone's doing okay in these scary times and this provides a bit of much needed escapism - one thing I have loved is there has been so many more Amy/Laurie fics than usual because people have the time to write, so there are some silver linings!! Sending love to you all and hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the lovely feedback I have received, it really makes my day!!  
> All the love x


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurie meets Amy at the studio after the shambolic night of the ball, and things take a sharp turn in their relationship.  
> ~ a mix of different scenes from the movie/book/my head!

Amy dried the last of her paintbrushes before pacing once more throughout her art studio, silently kicking herself for her selfish behaviour. How could she be so foolish to let herself slide into such a dangerous web? Her breath was shaky as she exhaled, hands fidgeting in discomfort as she thought back to the night of the ball, happily intoxicated and head drowsy above her worries. The bubble of dreams soon popped when she realised that she had put her entire expected engagement on the line for one self-centred night of fun and it hit her like a ton of bricks. Amy had worked far too hard and sacrificed far too much to even consider falling at the last hurdle, right before Fred could finally make her his. 

Her heart lurched in her stomach thinking about it. Though it was what she must do, what she believed she was destined to complete, the thought of marrying Fred had somewhat been playing on her mind. It wasn't that Fred would be unpleasant to her, he'd always been the truest of gentlemen and never seemed to put a foot out of place, but she couldn't help facing the crushing reality that he was unashamedly boring. No matter how hard she tried or how guilty she felt for admitting it, she had never seemed to be able to push the conversation out of exchanging mutual pleasantries, as one would an acquaintance, not a husband. Amy couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of indifference towards her soon-to-be fiancé, despite the obvious juxtaposition of her feelings. 

She continued to pick at the paintbrush gripped in her hands, subconsciously pulling on the fine hairs that made the brush glide so easily across the canvas. She wondered, just for a second, if this were some twisted consequence for something terrible she had done in a past life; or even this life. The guilt and shame of burning Jo's book when she was merely 12 years old still followed her now as a full woman of 20 years, but surely plunging into that icey cold lake and nearly drowning was punishment enough? Surely she couldn't be expected to face a laborious life of discontented bore for a mistake she made before she was even a teenager? If it were, it would be a cruel, cruel life she were to face. After all, the opposite of love isn't hate; it is indifference. 

She frowned, letting her eyebrows sink deeper into her sullen face and finding refuge in slowly pulling the dried paint from the tips of the paintbrush. The flooding memories felt like suffocating in that icey water all over again, where your lungs struggle to take air properly and your nerves become frozen, stinging with pain from the infiltrating water. She could almost hear the ringing in her ears that had reached a crescendo when her petite body was pushed down by a ripple, knocking the breath from her chest and pushing her down towards the bottom of the murky lake that late November. She had accepted her fate and her body went limp momentarily giving up the fight and allowing her limbs to move with the water rather than fight it, as the water pushed her down, down, down.

That was until a strong hand had seized her frail wrists and dragged her up out of the cold water, splaying her out across the ice as she coughed and spluttered and looked into her hero's eyes. They weren't the stark blue pair that belonged to her sister that she had been expecting. No, her saviour's eyes were hazel and warm, providing a soothing contrast from the ice underneath her back. She felt like she was laid bare on that ice, like he was seeing past her shivering to something much deeper, like he could see all her vulnerabilities and hopes and thoughts. Theodore Laurence had always had that strange power over her.

Speaking of the devil, a knock rapped at the studio's door, and she stood frozen, as if she were plunged with cold water again. Laurie had slipped through the door, watching as she barely acknowledged his presence, her back still studiously focused on the canvas in front of her, pretending to inspect the details of her painting. Laurie considered her for just a moment. Her slight figure, her beautiful artwork, her golden curls tucked neatly into a messy do held by a pencil, much more simple than her elaborate braids she usually wore. She was a masterpiece, a vision in blue. If he could stop the world, hop off and stay here, just looking at her from a distance for the rest of his life, he believe he would be fully content. The sunlight settled through the blinds, the sleepy afternoon allowing the figure of his contentedness to bask in the hazy rays bursting through the room, an angel with the wit of a devil. God, he had better make his presence known before a passing stranger starts to think he was some kind of peeping Tom.

"Amy! Have you been hiding aw-"  
He strode in with confidence, hoping that whatever Amy had against him that day she lectured him had dissipated, his head full of Amy's bright eyes and clear, sprightly laugh that night of the ball, clumsily slumped against him in her lightly intoxicated state. 

"Laurie. I told you, I cannot see you anymore. Please leave me be."  
She turned further away from him, her shoulder facing the wall, sunbeams bending around her creating a halo. She sounded tired, exhausted even, like the weight of it stretched her muscles further than they could go. 

"Amy, it's just me. It's just Laurie, okay? I do not want this to get between us, please just let me stay."  
He didn't know what he meant by that, didn't know where or how long for. All he knew was that he wanted to stay wherever the little March was. He watched her shoulders soften from where they were raised at her sides, exhaling a long breathe, his presence sliding between her joints and soothing the stress she put on them.

"I promise I'll be good."  
It was a dangerous sentence to say with such a smirk on his face, after all she could either laugh it off and let him stay or finally snap at his unrelenting flirtations. Fortunately enough for him, she turned around with a small smile, finally meeting his eyes and softening her furrowed brows.

"Fine. But keep quiet, I'm trying to finish this painting."  
She was nearly complete with the landscape splattered across the canvas, intricately detailed with pastel shades of the evening sun.

"Are you painting for anything in particular?"  
It was a casual and meaningless question for Laurie to ask, simply curious to talk to his Raphaella about her art. He didn't know the weight that the question held for her, as she gently shook her head.

"I guess it's one last hurrah before I put the paintbrush down. I don't imagine I'll be doing all that much painting when Fred and I are engaged and besides, I'm no genius."  
She was distractedly fidgeting with the cloth in her hands, unsure of what to do with her fingers now they had discarded the paintbrushes. It had always been second nature for Amy to have some form of pencil or paintbrush in her hands, her dainty finger seemed permenantly stained with little splashes of oils and acrylics when she had spent all day in the studio, her hair even held by a pencil right now. Laurie watched her in shock, his jaw slacked and nose scrunched in disapproval. 

"You're giving up painting? Why? Amy, you're incredible! You can't give up art. You have such a gift and the world deserves to see it!"

She spoke over him, not wanting to accept his praises when all she wanted someone to simply to quit, that there was no point trying if she wasn't going to make it. Pretty simply didn't cut it as an artist and though it was a bitter pill to swallow, someone had to swallow it.

"I'm not incredible, I'm an imitator at best. You should see the other students' work, they have the gifts of true genius. My work, it has no meaning behind, no feeling. It's nice to look at but it doesn't speak any deeper than surface level."

He couldn't believe his ears. Where had his confident little Amy gone? The one with a head full of grandeur dreams and frilly frocks and not caring what others thought of her, no matter how frivolous it made her. He had never seen these insecurities, and now he had, he wanted to erase them all whatever way he could. He wanted to reach out and rest his lips against her skin, letting his kisses heal her and revitalise her passion for the world. But he stayed where he was in the velvet chair watching as she took a shaky breath and met his eyes. She was calm and collected but he could tell it was bothering her, had been playing on her mind for a while.

"Besides, a lady of society has no business wasting her time in the studio. She has better things to be looking after in the hom-"

"Oh who has been feeding you that? Let me guess. Fred Vaughn, by any chance?"  
He outraged.

"Laurie, don't make fun. Of course he wouldn't say that."

He couldn't help it, he was fired up now. Who else would be telling her such rubbish? Even if he hadn't said it directly, Laurie was sure that Fred Vaughn wouldn't be observant enough to soothe his lady's worries, the English boy was rich but it did nothing for his intelligence. 

"Well has he ever tried to comfort you? Supported your work? Praised the incredible art that you produce time and time again?"

She gave him a pointed look. They both knew the answer, but she feared vocalising it would somehow taint the perfect English romance she had somehow grown to want. She considered her words carefully. She couldn't hand that kind of power and satisfaction over to Laurie that he was indeed correct that Fred had barely acknowledged her work, never mind complimented it. His compliments were sweet but they were generally shallow, commenting on the blue of her dress or her neat hair, not usually bothering to mention her intelligence or creativity or even natural beauty.

"He is under no obligation to do so. I'm sure he likes my work but art can be difficult to understand at times and the apparent mixed signals that my art produces probably don't help."

"Neither does his apparent lack of intelligence."  
Laurie scoffed, Amy not being able to help but let out a giggle, gently rebating Laurie with the cloth for his cheeky comment but not being able to deny it's truth. For such a fine education, the Englishman truly did lack basic common sense.

"What, even more so than you?"  
Amy rebuttaled, smirking lightly. Laurie feigned hurt, dramatically clapping his hand to his chest like a man who had been shot, and reaching out for her hand to add to his theatrics.

"Oh, sweet Amy, how you wound me!"  
He said, like an amateur dramatic student playing Romeo. She rolled her eyes and laughed, letting the brightness settle between them, slipping her hand out of his ever so slowly as not to break the moment. He stood from his seated position and came around to where Amy had returned to staring at her. His breath was on her neck from his position behind her, all too close and not close enough at the same time. He studied her face as she trained her eyes on the canvas in front of them. 

"Is it finished?"  
He asked quietly, his eyes studying the flick of her nose scrunch as she pursed her lips.

"I'm not sure. I don't know what else to do with it."  
Her eyes stayed steady on the canvas, but she could feel his eyes on her, suddenly conscious of her breath.

"It's beautiful."  
The painting was of a sunset over the beach back home. It brought back the happy memories and freedoms childhood provided. If only he could go back and tell himself to open his eyes to Amy, who had always been enchanted by his ways. He probably would have saved himself quite the heartache. 

"That was the first day I met Fred."  
She sighed, the name caught in the back of her throat. It felt wrong to even mention the tall blonde when the man standing behind her had curls of rich chocolate.

"Are you happy with Fred?"  
Neither of them moved, Amy swallowing thickly. It wasn't a trick question, he hadn't demanded that she declared her undying love for Fred right then and there because they both knew it would be untruthful for her to stand there and lie about it, and it would be cruel for Laurie to ask her in the first place. The question didn't come from a place of malice, Laurie was genuinely curious and wanted her to see what he saw. Surely one couldn't find true happiness in a marriage meant only for financial gain? He wouldn't judge her for wanting the security money brought, he was rich but he had a soul enough to know others saw the potential money could give them, especially after he saw the pressure she was under to find a suitable marriage to provide for her family. He just couldn't comprehend why she would choose all that over a chance for true happiness, unrelenting, unabashed, unbreakable happiness.  
She took her time picking her words, her eyes still focused on the painting, studying the details of the pinks and oranges she had swept across the sky.

"I'm content with Fred. And I am happy enough with being content."

That was answer enough. He nodded in solemnity and understanding. He simply couldn't blame her for such a statement. All he could do was prove his love was true for her, and hope one day she'd accept him and love him back like he knew she wanted to.

"Anyway, I think I'm finished for today. I can't quite bare to look at this canvas for another minute more."

She tried to shift conversation, suddenly feeling flushed as she realised their close proximity. His eyes seemed to pierce her skin as they wandered over her neck and shoulders, appreciating the simplicity of her creamy skin in that white button-up blouse, wondering what she she would look like in a full white gown with little flowers adorning her hair. His hand moved as if he had no control over it, as he settled his fingers of the small of her back, hear protruding from her as the weight of his hand settled where her wait narrowed before the bump in her skirt, exactly where her apron was tied.

"Are you finished with this?"  
He said it quietly, with such softness and warmth that his voice alone could melt butter. It was a whisper of a question in her ear, causing goosebumps to arise on the surface of her skin and letting her head lean into his words just ever so slightly. She managed to eek out a nod from the haze that fogged her mind.

His hands slowly set to work, allowing the air filled with heat to linger between them. His nimble fingers uncoiled the buttons from their intricately designed loops, one by one unravelling her white blouse, just sheer enough to see where the warmth of the day had pressed it to her skin. The perfectly tied bow unravelled with a pull, his fingers twisting to separate the material, reaching up to push it from her shoulders until it was discarded on the marble floor beneath them. His hands still rested on her arms, heart permeating between them as she slowly turned her around to face him. One hand reached up to where her hair was held by the pencil, slowly removing it and letting her golden hair tumble down her neck and shoulders messy yet stunning. He let one finger slide through the blonde tresses before settling on her petite shoulders. 

His other finger hooked underneath her chin, lightly pushing her sweet face up so that their eyes met, exchanging so many unsaid words between them. Before he could think twice, he leaned it and pressed his lips to hers, letting her body fall against his with a shudder and their souls intertwined in a faulty moment of desire, the ardor of youth pressing their bodies together as he settled his lips onto hers, sliding against the rouged and soft skin underneath his with eyelids fluttering shut. 

He released her, his arms circulating her waist. With a gasp, she looked at him, her eyes painted with anxious fascination, her brows furrowed in fear.  
She fled from his grasp, panicked and heart racing with all too many feeling swirling around her, reaching out for the door handle and swinging it open.

"Amy, wait! Please!"

The door slammed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellloooo!! It's a long chapter because it's been a long ol' time since I updated, I wasnt sure whether to split this chapter into two but I went for one. I hope you read til the end where it gets a lil spicyyy! Thank you so much for your patience and love on this work, I know I haven't been the best with updating but school and lockdown has been hectic (speaking of - hope you're all doing okay, sending all the love out <3) and your lovely comments/kudos are so appreciated! I have also posted another Amy/Laurie fic recently called 'Falling' if youre interested and want to check it out? I think I will do one or two more chapters to round out this story - thanks again for all the support it truly means the world!  
> All the love xx  
> PS I'm allowed to bully Fred for being dumb and English because I am also dumb and English ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Heyooo! This is my first work for ao3 so I'd appreciate any feedback you have - chapters too long or too short? How many chapters should there be? What would you like more of? Anything at all would be great! Had to write about these two because they are too cute and loved the whole Nice thing because it's such a beautiful city and so memorable I could write about it for days! (Plus, the fresh baguettes are soooo worth the heat!) so that's how this happened.  
> All the love x


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